Mixed Feelings and Money Problems
by hueyfreemanrocksmyworld
Summary: Now in their 20's, Riley and Cindy are just trying to live it up while they're still young. When they get the opportunity to work together from Jazmine, they both jumped at the offer. But who knew that seeing your best friend model during the day and party at night could get you to realize that you feel something more for them? Everyone but Riley and Cindy it seems. RxC HxJ
1. In the 20's

**A/N: First chapter, bitches! Lmao just kidding bruh. Calm down. None of y'all are bitches. Unless, of course, you match one of the descriptions in Tupac's **_**Wonda Why They Call U Bitch **_**then ehh maybe I'm literal but we're not here to know what I mean and what I don't mean. I got a freakin' CILEY STORY that takes place while in their 20'S! Bruh I thought the day would never come. I planned to do a Riley story (which is going to be called **_**Not Your Average Superhero **_**so don't you muthafuckas dare steal my ideas now) at the same time I was writing **_**Tutoring Our Love **_**but hey shit happens and I figured I better get the sequel of **_**DMMRI **_**out instead of waiting after writing several stories. But don't worry now, children lol that just means I have another Riley story coming out (that'll be Mindy which means RileyxOC, so, sorry Ciley fans) and another Juey story because Juey is endgame; Juey is life; the idea of Juey alone is valued more in my heart than any other freakin' idea I've ever had so it's going down and Juey for life. But lemme stop before I get carried away. It's Ciley time now. So, without further ado, I present to you: **_**Mixed Feelings and Money Problems**_**.**

**P.S. There will be **_**many **_**different points of view—including Huey and Jazmine's because there might be some mentions of them (hey gotta have the whole crew together)—and also including 3****rd**** person point of view or even an omniscient narrator point of view. So yah. LEGGO TO THE DISCLAIMER.**

**P.S.S. I will actually try to keep up with different lines from different characters depending on the different material within each chapter, as I tried to do with DMMRI but failed on keeping up with it. And I'm thinking about song suggestions… so yah that's the end of my more-than-300 word A/N.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE BOONDOCKS**

_Look, fuck you. Fuck the plane you flew in on. Fuck them shoes. Fuck those socks with the belt on it. Fuck yo gay ass fairy faggot accent. Fuck them cheap ass cigars. Fuck yo yuk-mouth teeth. Fuck you hairpiece. Fuck yo chocolate. Fuck Guy Ritchie. Fuck Prince William. Fuck the Queen. This is America. My president is Black and my Lambo is blue, nigga. Now get the fuck out my hotel room… and if I see you in the street, I'm slappin' the shit out of you._

_Riley Freeman; __The Fundraiser_

**Riley's POV:**

Damn. Who the _fuck _decided to take the last of that damn Advil, Aleve, whateva the fuck I had in here…

I run my hand through my cornrows, trying to track back in my mind what nigga I let over here with a headache that would take my shit, or what bitch could suck a good dick to take all this pain away.

Damn. Nothing.

I sit down in my bed again, trying to take the pain away…

…But this big ass house has too many windows to even close my eyes in peace.

You see, after Granddad died when I was 17, being that Huey was already an adult, 19, he became by legal guardian for the next few months or whateva. It was either him or someone in Chicago, and frankly, a nigga didn't wanna leave Whitecrest as much as I hate to admit it.

I don't even know… I guess it was too familiar for me to leave for a few months, then try to get re-familiarized with another place, and then come back here for college. Plus, I'd be leaving my homies like C-Murph and Hiro and Ceez behind; shit, I'd even miss Jazmine and Huey's gay ass.

But, luckily for me, Huey trusted me enough to hold it down in Granddad's old house, while he and Jazmine both, in their second year at The University of Woodcrest, got an off-campus apartment (probably to fuck more).

So, in my spare time, when I wasn't banging some random chick from school, or skipping classes or whateva, I began drawing all these crazy different designs and random shit that popped in my head and shit, and I collected/organized them in folders.

Eventually, I had so many drawings and sketches that I could organize them into different folders.

I showed my homies my different drawings, but C-Murph seemed to like them the most… even suggested that I become a tattoo artist.

As for the rest of the crew, Hiro became a DJ at a club, C-Murph was basically living off her dad's wealth—but she had went to college for psychology or somethin' like that, she just didn't go to Med. School for it—Caesar was an entrepreneur and invested in all sorts of things like one of them niggas on that show Sharktank, Jazmine was an up-and-coming fashion designer, Huey the hater took over for Al Sharpton on his show on MSNBC, Politics Nation, and I always had the hookup to the nice clubs.

And after I went to the Woodcrest Community College (I had skipped too many days to get into Yale or some shit like Huey, but I still had the grades), between all the connections I had, I was able to chase my dreams and get a pretty good tattoo gig.

The pay was great, but unfortunately there wasn't that many niggas in Woodcrest willing to pay for a tattoo; let alone niggas in Woodcrest even wanting a tattoo.

So a nigga always gotta beg a bitch like I'm Huey's gay self just to get some paper. Shit, Baltimore isn't that far away. I be calling Baltimore bitches up, telling 'em I'll sleep with them and shit, just to get _my hands on _some paper..

_I swear if I get STD's before I turn 21…_

\\-_-/

Usually, when you imagine yourself waking up, you imagine waking up gracefully.

Well, imagination is hella different than reality.

All I hear as I wake up is knocking on the door, and my phone vibrating a million times or so.

I got up from the bed, went downstairs, and opened the door, to find Caesar standing there, waiting, with a message.

"Cindy said to, and I quote, 'answer your damn phone, nigga'," he says, walking through the door and making himself at home. "And Huey and Jazmine told me to make sure you knew that they are coming over," he adds.

"So what are you, now, nigga? The messenger?" I jokingly ask, and Ceez laughs.

"Guess so, man. All a homie wanna do is get out there and get his business going, but all these chicks in the industry are tryna get on my dick to get promoted, or if they not with my company to say that I raped them or some shit to try and take me down. Man, I'm so over it."

"I feel you, nigga. I feel you… no homo."

Just then, there's a knock at the door.

**3rd Person POV:**

"Come in, nigga!" Riley yells at the door, assuming who's there.

"Hey, nigga!" Damian greets, coming through the door. Damian had a twin brother, named Damon, who was lord knows where. Damon was the smart freak, and Damian was the sporty but shy one.

"Aye, where Damon at?" Caesar asks.

"Saw some girl passing on the sidewalk he was digging. I don't know where he went after that, though."

"Damn. Young boul is _always _getting some," Caesar comments, shaking his head.

"You got that right," Riley agrees, before turning to Damian. "So why y'all here? I thought we were going clubbing tomorrow."

"Damon said that he wanted to—"

"I-I… wanted to," Damon starts coming out of nowhere. He was breathing heavily, as if he ran all the way up.

"Damn, nigga. Where the hell you come from?" Riley says in amazement.

"Africa. Thought you woulda known," Damon jokes, catching his breath a bit more. "But nah the girl I saw was actually crazy, and I needed to get up here A-S-A-P."

"So what did you wanna ask me?" Riley questions him.

"Oh. I ain't got no questions. Cindy sent me over to tell you that she's gonna whoop your ass later if you don't call her in the next 20 minutes. I just brought Damian along."

"More like I drove," Damian corrects Damon.

Riley gulps a little bit, processing Cindy's threat. "And exactly how long did it take you to get over here?" he asks with worry.

"15 minutes driving, one minute parking. Then it took a minute for me to come up here, and two minutes, after that, for Damon. So, yeah… you only got a matter of seconds left before your as gets beat," Damian does the math for him; able to tell what he was worrying about.

Riley runs to his room and picks up his phone, before shooing all of them out.

"Go, niggas, go!" He yells.

"Don't forget dinner!" Caesar yells as a reminder right back at him.


	2. Grand Phone Call

**A/N: okay so second chapter. I was trying to stretch out the talking scene so that you wouldn't get a lot of the dinner, but then I decided to do something else, so you'll see what I'm talking about (at least I hope you'll see what I'm talking about) so yah just uhh… look out for it, I guess? I don't know. I tried to make it kinda sorta obvious, in I guess what would be considered an abrupt manner or fashion.**

**P.S. by this, I mean the dinner's gonna be in the next chapter, but you get to see more of Riley's thoughts (which I suppose is a plus since this story is pretty much all in Riley's POV) at the end of this chapter, and the next chapter is gonna be hella long, but this one is gonna be kinda short (compared to the last one) because I didn't want to incorporate the dinner because I don't want a hella hella long chapter as of right now.**

**P.S.s. These chapters are meant to be shorter than the chapters for some of my other stories, such as _Don't Look for What You're Not Willing to Give._**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE BOONDOCKS, Instagram  
**

_**Riley's POV:**_

_Oh, God… please don't make her whoop my ass. White girl knows too much about black discipline… can't have all these bruises when I go clubbing..._

Cindy finally answers.

"Hey, Reezy!" she says cheerfully through the phone.

"So, you not mad?"

"NIGGA, IS YOU FORREAL? AM I _MAD?_ BOYYYY!" I gulp once again, preparing myself for the screaming rant he's about to get from his best friend.

"Damn, okay 'Cin! I was asleep! HOW YOU GON' GET MAD AT A NIGGA FOR SLEEPING?!"

"CUZ I CAN!"

"You think Ima just wake up when I hear it's _you _calling? You _really _on that dope."

"WELL YOU SHOULD."

"Girl, explain to me how that work. Tell me: would it be a noise, like you screaming, so that my eardrum can be entirely busted, or would it be some type of vibration device, that just shakes and wakes, or what? Let a brotha know before you start schemin'!"

"Riley, if you don't shut the fu—"

"Sorry to interrupt, but why the _hell _were you calling in the first place?"

"Uhh..."

"Girl!"

"Cuz I can!"

"You straight up unbelievable!"

"So are you! I texted you like 100 times, and called you at least 50! Did you at least check what the texts say?"

"..."

"Exactly! Silence! And you wanna talk about me..."

"Aiight, Aiight. We was both wrong. Just tell me what the texts say, and I'll stop dogging you for the rest of the day."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"So Ima see you tonight, is a safe guess of what you were gonna tell me?"

"Damn. You know me too well."

"Hah, so I still get to dog on you!"

"..."

"A little bit, a very small amount."

"Sounds better."

"So, you coming to Huey and Jazmine's dinner then?"

"Riley, where else would I see you?"

"Butt ass naked in my bed," I joke.

"Ewwww, ewww shut uppppp! Nigga, you gay."

"Haha, you _know _everybody want a piece of Young Reezayyyyy!"

"Whatever you say, Riley."

"Is that just like your new catchphrase when dealing with me or something? Cuz that's your comeback to everything when you know I'm right."

"Whatever you say, Riley."

"And here you go again..."

"Shut the fuck up. Let me have my dumb comeback that doesn't make sense."

"…do you hear yourself right now?" I ask in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up, Riley. I'm done with you… Ima see you in a few hours anyway."

"See you then, boo," I tease her yet again.

"RILEY!" she yells, and I hang up.

I think I crack myself up more than anyone else can. Cindy's damn sure close, but I think I stand on top. To be honest, and no homo over this whole observation, or whatever the hell you wanna call this gay shit, I think it's actually great if you're able to make yourself laugh to such a supreme level. Like, when you're able to make yourself laugh that much, that's just raw vibes right there. Straight up. And that's what niggas get from me. Raw vibes.

Which reminds me… I needa get my raw vibes ass in the shower and I gotta figure out what the hell I'm gonna wear to Huey's and Jazmine's… I mean, they fam, I'm fam, but sometimes Jazmine wants to be _real special _with her little mixed, mulatto, Mariah Carey ass and invite some random bitches over and then expect me to look all nice. Like their apartment or condo or whatever the hell she's calling it now is not that special to have the mutha fuckin' Young Reezy dress up all special for some random bitches or some shit like that.

But apparently the apartment or condo or whatever the hell Jazmine's ass is calling it now _is _big enough for Huey to whoop a nigga the fuck up.

And frankly, a nigga isn't gonna want a repeat of that.

_Ima just hop in the shower, and maybe I'll actually think of a better job for myself, versus just what I'm about to wear to Huey and Jazmine's… place._

See what I mean? I can entertain myself for days, and I got good ideas coming out a nigga's brain every two seconds.

\\-_-/

"Rolling down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice. Laidddddd back; with my mind on my money, and my money on my mind," I sing along to the song. Damn, I wish I could _actually remember _the highlights of Snoop's career, when he was at the top of the game; the Godfather of Rap; the peak of his career. Now all he do is collab with random niggas and post videos of him smoking yet another blunt or talking about gangsta shit on Instagram. I mean, don't get me wrong, I ain't against his little hustle thing, of sorts, going on, or gangs and guns and gangsta shit and smoking, I just think it's time for the nigga to retire or whatever the hell you wanna call him getting tryna get more attention. Still, it's against my previous beliefs to hate someone's hustle, so looks like I gotta just keep these thoughts to myself.

C-Murph still thinks he's the best, and Puff Daddy too, but them niggas straight up collaborating when not too long ago they were just having their whole East Coast/West Coast beef... I'm just saying, not even Cin' can tell me she don't see the desperateness in them.

Anyways, enough of them old niggas. I'm about to get Jazmine's food!

Damn, she might be a little Mariah Carey, but she can cook! As Ruckus always said, "that's how you know the nigga part of her is running through her veins". Ruckus died about five months ago - we thought the old, self-hating man would never die. But he was called, to White Heaven, as he calls it. We all know Jesus is Black though, I don't get the point in fronting... but let me stop throwing shade.

Right now, all I needed to do was figure out how to get my life together, with the assistance of my music - oh, here's another old school hit - and keep my eyes on the road... at least enough to see what's happening, cuz a nigga can't spend all his car rides doing one thing.

"All I need in this life of sin... is me and my girlfriend. Down to ride to the bloody end... just me and my girlfriend."

**A/N: some, what I hope was, blunt foreshadowing. At the **_**very **_**end, I mean. Spoiler alert lol. So yah I explained it all in the A/N in the beginning of the chapter. So yah I guess uhh just stay tuned and review.**


	3. The Catch Up

**A/N: It's been so long that I had to reread what I wrote… lmao this is sad. But without further ado, let's just cut to the disclaimer.**

**P.S. Check out the A/N at the bottom because… y'all are gonna be jealous lol.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE BOONDOCKS**

_**Riley's POV:**_

"Huey! Jazmine! I'm dying! Someone thought I was in a rival gang, and they shot me on the street!" I yell through their intercom, which goes directly to a speaker in their house. I knew it was wrong, but wrongness may as well be my middle name… except I would never trade Escobar for another name.

I hear running and screaming from inside. Damn, I hope I didn't give Jazzy a heart attack.

"Jazmine, calm down," Huey says, and I can hear his voice approach the door. He opens it about two seconds after. "Nice try, Riley. But we all know that you wear far too many colors at once to get pointed out by the, what, possible one gang here?"

"Aye, the Latin Kings wear yellow, red, _and _black!" I try to justify my first statement.

"Riley, you're wearing a long, button-up white shirt, baggy blue jeans, and a red snapback. If anything, you're repping the country we live in; the USA. Besides, the only gang that would be in Woodcrest is the Ku Klux Klan, or the Aryan Brotherhood… both White supremacist gangs."

"What about the surrounding area, though? Baltimore's near us. You _know _there gotta be some Crips and Bloods _somewhere_! Or any Latino-based gang! You _know _MS-13 is in the suburbs of Virginia!"

"Just get in the damn house already, Riley."

"Shit… I wish MS-13 would come up here to Whitecrest," I murmur under my breath.

I walk in to find Jazmine on the couch, looking like she just suffered from a heart attack, and a couple both light, and heavy, strokes_. I know I need to assure her I'm good… but, like, ain't she gon' see me somewhere? _I argue with myself in my head.

"Riley! Thank goodness, you're okay!" A feminine voice yells, and suddenly I feel a large amount of pressure on my back. Did Mariah's little, mixed self just jump on me? _At least she beat me to my apology… _"Don't you ever scare me like that again, mister!" Jazmine continues to yell, and smacks me on the back of the head.

I swear, Ima get a serious mental problem before I turn 30 from everybody wanting to smack me upside the head. Like, I ain't doing that much to bother y'all! It's just easier for me to get smacked upside the head, instead of y'all facing the facts, and realizing that, not only am I always right, but Ima joke sometimes, and if I give you a heart attack, Ima still not pay the bill.

No mercy, ma.

"Cindy's waiting for you in the bedroom upstairs, Riley," Huey informs me.

"Huh? She getting nakey or something?" I ask. I receive yet another smack on the head.

"Cindy is a woman who deserves respect, Riley. All women deserve respect," Jazmine half-scolds me.

"I know they do, Jaz. Y'all act like I'm an anti-feminist or something. I've been down with women's rights… do you not remember a woman gave life to me at one point in time?" I say, and she shuts up immediately. "She's just been acting weird lately," I continue. "And you know I joke about this kind of thing," I finish.

I walk forward a little, then turn to the right to walk up the stairs.

"Eyy, C-Murph!" I scream while walking up the stairs.

"Quiet down, Riley!" Huey yells, sticking his head in the staircase.

"You shut the fuck up, ya lil' gay ass faggot…" I mutter under my breath.

"Aye, Reezy! Come up here!" Cindy replies, at last.

"What room, nigga? That's why I was yelling your name, ain't it!"

"Shit, I 'on't know! You might've been tryna turn all predator on me, and tryna fit ya dick in my you know what."

"That's what I was tryna tell Jazmine!" I exclaim, now looking around on the second floor of Huey and Jazmine's condo. "But then she started telling me how I need to respect women. And I was like 'Yo, I gots respect for women. I always have', and then she just shut up, and I was like 'take that, bitch!'."

"And Huey didn't beat your ass for that one?" She asks me, as I finally make it to the guest room, where it appears she's been staying lately. She probably got in another fight with her dad. He left her mom growing up, since Cindy's mom was cheating on him, but that was only after domestic abuse occurred. Cindy had threatened him that if he didn't pay for her college expenses, and just overall life expenses, that she would go to a HBCU. And being the racist he is, he agreed to it in what seemed like two seconds.

She barely even stays at his house—screw that, mansion—anymore. They fight to often, and both the probability and possibility of her dad hitting her are hella high. Plus, as C-Murph says, she can't be with anyone who doesn't let the people who really are her family—also known as the fine muthafucka they call Young Reezy, Huey's hater ass self, Jazzy, Ceez, Hiro, Damian, and Damon.

"Well, I might've not said the last part…"

"Knew it."

"Riley! Cindy! Dinner's ready!" Jazmine calls from downstairs.

"The hell? I just walked all the way up here for nothin'?!" I scream out in disbelief.

"Haha, that's what you get fool! Next time, ya know to answer me when I call—_the first time_."

"I told ya about this already, Cin'!"

"I know, Reez. Just shut up and move ya ass so we can go eat."

\\-_-/

"So, Riley, you know for my company, we're starting to do some shows and things. Fashion shows, of course," Jazmine begins.

"Yea, all that gay shit. I know," I respond swiftly

"Number one, it's not _all _gay. And number two, it's not only the fashion shows, if you hadn't interrupted me."

"Well, it seemed like only a beginning. I thought you were going step by step… so therefore, my previous statement wasn't an interruption, but only—"

"Aye, yo Reez!" Cindy calls my name, and I look at her sideways. "See, _that's _an interruption," Cin' backs me up.

"Just continue, Jazmine," Huey dismisses us in a quick manner.

"Anyways, Riley, for a _possible _fashion show, but mainly for parties, magazines, and co-modeling—yes, with girls—galore, I was wondering if you would be the new, primary model for our urban clothing line. We're getting new people in the building so they're all gonna be adjusting, at, most likely the same rate as you, and you'll be able to travel with us and whatnot, which will also be free, and we're not dressing you up in anything too fancy or extravagant, being it's the urban line, and you can even design some of your own outfits with approval, and—"

"Jaz, you had me at parties, ma," I kindly agree to her offer.

Man. I know fashion is really, really gay, but we live in the world where LGBT things are normal, so at least some more heteros are gonna be working with me. And get me straight: I'm not homophobic or nothing, it's just in past experiences, gay men have tried to force themselves on me and shit, and frankly, a nigga ain't down with all that.

But a nigga _is _down with being the primary model.

And a nigga's got the world ahead of him, now.

**A/N: So y'all better ready to be jealous, lol. So last night I was at the taping of **_**Black Girls Rock**_**, which is under BET (I know, Huey, please forgive me), and I freakin' met Regina King omgizzle it was too much. I was like "this is the closest I'm gonna get to the Freeman Bros like I can't even." I didn't get a picture with her ******sniffles** but she smiled at me and yessss. She was co-hosting with Tracy Ellis Ross so she was rushing. But she's smaller in person than you'd think, to be honest. Many other people were there (such as First Lady Michelle Obama (so security was hella decked out)), but because of what the BET representative told us, and what we agreed to (and I watch **_**The Boondocks**_** like hello I'm not tryna mess around with BET like that), I can't post pictures or any crap like that and I can't tell y'all about all the performances and stuff. So don't ask me because I'm not giving details that we were specifically not told to tell. Like next thing you know Deborah Lee's at my door asking me to come in her office. Naw, I'm not playing around with them like that.**

**Anyways, please review, and shit—tell your friends I could always use some more visits and views.**


	4. Models?

**A/N: …been a long time coming—sorry, fam.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE BOONDOCKS, Little Einsteins**

A world of money, hoes, and clothes, and cool cars, and other cool shit is what's ahead. _Money, hoes, and clothes… all a brother knows_, I think of the Big Poppa lyrics, continuing to recite them in my head.

"Riley? Riley? Did you hear me, or were you daydreaming?" Jaz asks, making all sorts of hand motions, all up in my face.

"I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME BIG POP-PA!" I scream out, and Jaz and Huey look at me like I got high while daydreaming. But, my girl C-Murph got my back, as always.

"THROW YA HANDS IN THE AI-AIR IF YOU'S A TRUE PLAYAAA!" we sing out together.

"GUYS!" Jaz raises her voice at us.

"Riley, are you down with the second part of her agreement, or no?" Huey questions me.

"Uhh… what's the second part, now?" I ask with a tiny, "have mercy" smile.

"You'll need to find a partner for your modeling. We'll need a full background check on him or her, passport or ID, jail records… the whole 9," Jazmine informs me.

"Aye, Cin, can I have your passport and ID?" I ask C-Murph.

"Ri, you're not asking what I think you're asking, right?" Huh, Ri. That's a new nickname. I guess it goes with this new chapter in my life, though.

"Well, I already know everything that's ever happened in your life, and have witnessed it happen since I was eight years old, so I didn't really need the other stuff Jaz asked for," I respond smartly. As expected, she smacks me upside the head.

"No, fool! You know what I meant… I can't be a model! I gotta have my daily dose of McWuncler's, or some other fast food… I work at a bar right now! How does that at all connect with modeling?"

"Simple: models go to bars and/or do photo shoots involving alcohol. And, Cin'… you're _the _sexiest girl I've seen, ma. You got this in the bag," I tell my best friend. She still blushes, as if this isn't something I've told her before in all of her—very uncalled for and invalid—low self esteem moments. "Come on, ma," I say, extending my hand and placing it on her thigh. "It's a freakin' urban line! We'll get to sag our pants and look like G's anddd get paid for it! And travel and hit clubs in other countries! You know we've been talking about doing that forever," I say with a light laugh.

"Fine. But only because you're my boy," she accepts my offer, finally.

I turn to Jazmine and Huey. Since they've been witnessing our whole interaction, they already know what's up. "So, Jaz… when do we get started?"

\\-_-/

Cindy passes me with the ball, going up for a shot, on the basketball courts in Woodcrest… again.

"Got em, got em!" Her basketball catchphrase rings in my head, the same way it did years ago, back when we were only eight years old, when we first met on this same court. And as always, she made the shot.

"Girl, you can only do that cuz you skinny," I play argue with her.

"Skinny? I'm skinny? Have you looked in the mirror lately, Reez?" she responds.

"Yes, yes you are skinny. And what I've seen is a sexy ass motherfucker."

"Boy, you play too much. Besides, how would we have pulled off our greatest heists without you being skinny? Remember the dog door one?"

"Don't even remind me, I think I still have bruises from that one. Actually, sike, please do remind me as to why we thought it was a good idea to go and rob someone _via dog door_."

"How else were we gonna get in?"

"Pick a lock."

"We didn't know how to pick locks at the time! We were only 10!"

"Speak for yourself, C," I respond with a smirk and a new nickname for my day one. "We could've gone through the window, too."

"That requires us knowing what windows are unlocked and ways to get to them."

"The windows had to be unlocked. I bet you the door was unlocked the whole time, too," I begin, shaking my head. "You know how rich people are, keeping they doors unlocked and thinking no one will enter their house, then throwing a fit when someone does," I dribble the basketball, while half-ranting.

"Ain't dat the truth."

"Mhm."

"Aye, Reez… am I actually sexy, or are you just lying to me."

"GIRL I SWEAR…" I begin yelling at her, catching the attention of some bystanders.

"Hah, got em!" She exclaims, taking the basketball from my hands, and slipping past me, per usual.

"Ima show up to the basketball courts without a ball one day, and we gon' see how slick you can _actually _be then."

"Reez," she begins, taking a break to dunk the ball. "That doesn't make sense." I rethink my sentence, and realize she's right.

"You know what, whatever, ma. Ima just send McHater here in place of me and see how much fun you have then." Her eyes widen, knowing that, even though Huey isn't that bad of a person, he doesn't play basketball.

"No, Reez! Don't do that to me!"

"If you're reading this it's too late," I tell her, bringing out a piece of paper with some random letters on it. I began carrying it around with me after the first time Cindy corrected me when I used the 'If you're reading this it's too late' line, saying she wasn't reading anything. I begin to walk away, to make the scene all the more dramatic.

Cindy jumps on my leg, screaming, "No, Reez, I'm sorry, fam!"

"That's all I wanted to hear," I say, and stop walking. She stares me down, the feeling of death glowing in her eyes. I gulp.

"Booooiiiiiiiii!" She yells, backing up, then running at me like a ram. She jumps on my chest, and tackles me to the ground. _Maybe she was right, maybe I am a little skinny, _I think. I fight back with her a little, but she knows I'm going light on her. "Give me all of you, Reez!" she exclaims like a boxing coach. Me, being the inappropriate and immature person I am, takes her words in another context. I snatch my hands away from her, and begin to unzip and unbutton my pants.

"Whatever you say, ma," I tell her with a dirty smirk.

"Reez… I swear… you better zip up your zipper, and re-button your pants, and bring me home… and no not to have sex, boy. So that I can get some mint tea and get this image out of my head, for now at least," she scolds me, her and I both blushing at the last few words she said.

I do as she commanded, and pick her up, holding her bride and groom style, and resting the basketball on her stomach. A smile creeps on my face, knowing how to make the trip home more entertaining.

"We're going on a trip!" I began to sing, Cin' joining in quickly.

We sing, "In our favorite rocket ship, soaring through the sky, Riley and Cin'! Climb aboard, get ready to explore, there's so much to find, Bonnie and Clyde!" We remix the Little Einsteins Remix, using our various aliases.

Too lazy to go to Cindy's home, which is further away, I bring her to my apartment, instead. As soon as I get through the door, I walk straight to my room, pull back the covers a bit, and lay Cindy, who had fallen asleep, in the bed. I then pull the covers back over her, and throw one of the pairs of spandex she keeps here, from her may-as-well-be closet. Following this, I go hop in the shower, put my boxers on, and come back to a freshly-changed, C-Murph—now in a sports bra and spandex.

We simultaneously hop in my bed, and go back to sleep—best friends who are now models.

**A/N: so I added the "best friends who are now models" part to remind y'all that they both are models for Jazmine's company now for the urban line and also that they are best friends who are very close, but not dating or friends w/ benefits or anything of that manner. I've been thinking of what to write for DLfWYNWtG, but I'm struggling a bit. So when I drop that, I apologize if it's horrible, lol.**


End file.
